


Impulse Buy

by Chibiness87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: But mostly fluff, F/M, Fluff, Pre IWTB, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: Nothing good ever comes from an impulse buy.





	Impulse Buy

**Impulse buy** , by **chibiness87**  
**Rating** : G  
**Spoilers/Season** : Set quite post series 9, but pre IWTB.  
**Disclaimer** : Not mine.

 **Summary** : No good ever comes of an impulse buy.

* * *

 

All her life, she has been impulsive.

The shoes she needed to have, never mind that she could barely walk in them. The dress that, for once, wasn’t a hand-me-down from her sister.

Missy told her once her impulsiveness would only end her up in trouble; that no good could ever come from an impulse buy. So she swapped her impulsive attitude from clothes to life choices.

Like swapping her focus from medicine to the FBI.

And getting a tattoo on a dare.

And running away from her respected life to a life on the lam.

They have been running for years now, and sometimes, she wishes her impulsiveness could do more than chose which direction to head in next as they criss-cross their way across the nation.

They are close to DC again, but far enough to not be on the doorstep. Rural Virginia spread around them, and she smiles softly to herself at the wool they are pulling over people’s eyes. Hiding in plain sight, as it were.

She sees it on a closed gate as they trundle past on the way to their next stop.

The sign on a gate at the end of a road, leading away at an angle from where they are heading. Just as they round a bend, she sees the outline of the property for a second, a two story building if she had to guess, before it is hidden by the treeline and horizon.

Mulder has driven all day, and when they finally reach the latest in a run of safe houses, he falls asleep almost instantly, barely taking the time to shrug out of his jumper and jeans, leaving him in a t-shirt. With a soft smile she pulls the covers over him, leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead. Her hands scoop up the keys to the non-descript car they currently have, and she waivers on the doorstep for a moment, fighting with herself to shirk her own clothes and join him. While a part of her feels guilty, another part of her feels like she just has to do this. Leaving a note to say she’s gone for food, not a lie, per se, she heads out to what passes as the local town.

The estate agent barely even blinks at her when she enters the building, going back to the piles of paperwork on his desk. It still takes her by surprise, the way they no longer have to duck and run all the time, especially this close to what used to be home. The attention on them has apparently waned over the past few years; bigger and badder things happening in the world making it harder to justify chasing down an ex-FBI agent turned felon, and his ex-FBI partner turned aider and abetter. She honestly doesn’t remember the last time she saw a wanted poster with either of their faces on it.

She finds the information she wants on an old paper copy; evidently the place has been on the market for a while. There is obviously work needed; the photos show old appliances, and they’ll need a hell of a security system. Her chest tightens for a moment at the thought of the three men who would have jumped at the chance to supply them with everything they would need, but those times are gone now.

But the porch is a nice touch, and the acreage the property comes with is appealing.

She thinks of the woods he could forage, looking for lifeforms. Mothmen and Bigfoot, right there on the doorstep of a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

It’s just like he described to her, all those years ago.

Remote.

Hidden.

Unremarkable.

She likes it immediately.

They have funds squirreled away, in her name and his, and all manner of aliases they have accumulated over the years. Inheritance from his family and hers, investments and bonds. The fact of the matter is; she can buy this house from her side of the money pool, and still have enough left over should they need to cut and run.

But she hopes they don’t.

It’s been years; surely they, whoever they are, have better things to do now the world is tearing itself apart, without waiting for an invasion or colonisation to do it for them.

Her hesitance finally seems to have piqued the attention of the estate agent, and he approaches her slowly. “Can I help you with anything, Miss…?”

She does not give her name. She’s too far into this to ruin it by trusting someone too soon. But still. She wants this house.

She wants it for her, but more than that she wants it for him.

Wants to give him something back, after all he has given her.

Hope.

Trust.

Love.

The realtor is curious, she can tell, and she blinks back at him, flicking the long strands of her hair (blonde, today) over her shoulder. Puts on an act, but is it really an act, by saying she saw it and it reminded her so much of her fantasy house she has to have it.

Has to.

The promise of a sale of a property they had obviously given up of ever selling makes the curiosity disappear, and soon she is signing over money from two accounts in the same name (but not her actual name), and the keys are in her hand.

God.

She’s actually done it.

The whole process has taken close to two hours, but it nothing compared to the time it took her to sort leases out back when they were… before.

Her life has been split into before and after of so long now, she hopes this can be the start of something new.

Clutching the keys in her hands, she trembles when she gets back to the car, fingers fumbling with the locking mechanism. She’s almost back to the small cabin just off the side of the road before she remembers she said she was going to find some food, and she considers turning around.

But she has already been gone longer than she feels comfortable with, the longest she has been from Mulder’s side in a couple of months. The scare of the last house they thought was safe and turning into a gun fight and a run for their lives still fresh on her mind, even though it was close to nine months ago now. They have been motel hopping since then; this is the first time in a while they feel calm enough to stay somewhere for more than a few nights.

Maybe the house was a mistake.

She enters the cabin quietly, ears perked, listening for signs of movement. Signs of life. The heap on the bed snuffles slightly, and she smiles. Destroying the note she left, she slips off her clothes, sliding under the covers next to him. He hums in his sleep, body instinctively turning over, hand sliding up and over her waist, pulling her against him. “Mmmm. Sc’lly?”

“Shhh. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmkay.” He falls silent again, his breathing slowing back into the rhythm of sleep she knows so well. Leaning against him, she presses a kiss to the closest patch of skin she can reach, letting her own eyes slip close.

It is late when they wake.

Moonlight streaking through the curtains that cover the window, the beginning of the chill of the autumn nights creeping in with the lack of heating. There is a fireplace in the centre of the room, and a pile of wood stacked nearby.

Her clothes lie where she left them on the floor, and she hates the thought of pulling them on when she is so warm lying here in bed with him. That is, until she remembers what she has done, and what she has to show him.

Suddenly, she’s not tired or cold anymore. Instead, a thrum of excitement fills her. Excitement and trepidation. Because what if she’s made a mistake?

“Scully?”

She bites her lip, thinking of the keys in her coat pocket, the meaning of them.

“I have something I want to show you.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, but gets up when she refuses to tell him anything more. They are back in the car in short order, her mind taking them back to the turning by memory alone.

As she steps out the car to unlatch the gate, she feels her heartbeat quicken.

Stepping back into the car, she answers Mulder’s questioning, “Scully?” with a small shake of her head.

“Just wait.”

Driving up the long dirt road, she is hit with doubts. She should have done this before; should have taken the time to look over the place in person before signing over money for a building she doesn’t even know he’ll want.

She shouldn’t have been worried.

Even before they step out of the car, her fingers worrying the keys in her hand, she can feel his energy behind her. “Scully? What is this?”

Ignoring him for the moment, she climbs up the rickety steps to the front door, smoothly setting the keys in the locks. Someone has evidently been up to the property to keep an eye on it, as the keys slide smoothly, and the door opens with a gentle click.

Together they cross the threshold, taking in the sight of the outdated kitchen. But there is a slight hum from the antique fridge, and when they open the door, while the shelves inside are empty, the air is cool. Heading towards the staircase, Scully makes her way slowly up the stairs, gently testing each rise before placing her weight there, pleased when, despite the odd creak, they hold firm.

The house is in better condition than she thought when she viewed the pictures earlier, and she feels a sense of right settle over her.

Taking in the sights and dimensions of the upper rooms, she turns and heads back downstairs, heading towards the back of the property, only to be met by Mulder in the doorway to the back porch. “Scully. What is this place?”

Shy suddenly, she ducks her head, biting her lip. He doesn’t let her get away with that for long, however, stepping closer and tilting her head up to see him. “Scully?”

“I uh…” Slowly, she takes the keys from her fists, pressing them into his palm, before closing his fingers around them.

He glances from his hand to her face and back again. “You know, I saw the sign on the gate. Is this you saying you wanna play house, Scully?”

She should have known this was a mistake. God, what was she even thinking? Snapping her hand back, she turns, unwilling to let him see how his words have upset her so. She thought he would be pleased. She thought… well. She thought he’d want this as much as she did.

She’s such an idiot.

Staking quickly through the house, her house, what she thought could be _their_ house, she is almost at the front door when his hand snags her arm, pulling her around and into his chest with such force she lets out a soft oomph and the contact. His arms brace around her, holding her in place, and she sags against him slightly.

“Why do you have the keys?”

Head still buried in his chest, she grits out, “Why do you think, Mulder?”

“Scully.” His voice is soft, breathless. Hope daring to poke through, and it is this she clings on to. “Scully,” he asks again, “what did you do?”

“You know what I did.”

He must know. He _must_.

There is a wetness to his eyes now, a reaction she hadn’t envisioned. Oh god, what has she done?

“You bought a house.”

She nods. It’s the only thing she’s capable of right now.

“You bought _this_ house.”

Her nodding gets quicker, her throat tightening. “It’s under an alias right now. But I thought… I remembered, what you said that time about having a place like… It reminded me of _Home_ ,” she manages to croak out, the double meaning of the word apparent, and his arms tighten around her.

“We’ll have to set some traps,” he says, and she smiles against him.

“I draw a line at a rusting Caddy in the front yard, though.”

He huffs a laugh, and the relief she feels is so great she feels she could fly. “I love you.”

“You bought us a house, Scully.” She can hear the smile in his voice. The awe.

“C’mon,” she says, finally extracting herself from his arms, only to take his hand in hers. Leading him towards the back, she pulls him towards the stairs. “Let me show you the rest of it.”

He shoots her a grin, the lightest she has seen in months, and her heart lightens in response.

Nothing good comes of an impulse buy, her sister had told her once.

She’s quite glad to be able to prove her wrong.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I am taking liberties. I know the whole buying a house process is much longer and more complex than what I’ve written here. But hell, back in season 2 Chris Carter had Mulder travel to Martha’s Vineyard and back in seemingly the same evening, despite it being a 700+ mile round trip to DC. What can I say, I learnt artistic licencing from him.


End file.
